


Second Chances

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Confusion, Getting Together, Kissing, M/M, Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:30:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8024509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: Lucifer has risen and the world is a better place for it. Is working with the angels to destroy him the Winchester’s only option? Or do they all deserve a second chance at happiness?





	Second Chances

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal in 2009.

When the end of the world comes there is no fire or brimstone. There is no screaming nor tearing of hair. There isn’t even any death. Just peace and health and enlightenment and humans living their lives exactly the same way they did before the Apocalypse came.

“The son of a bitch is killing us with kindness,” Bobby grumbled. He threw another book onto the already book splattered table and sank down in his chair. “Healing people,” he snapped. “Goddamn prince of darkness.” His mutterings were momentarily curtailed as he took a long drink of his beer and tried to block out the news on the radio as the announcer breezily declared that another hospital, this time in Cincinnati, reported the miraculous healing of all the children on the cancer ward. “And he’s no help.”

Bobby pointed his foot in the direction of Chuck, who was currently lying sprawled on the couch, blind drunk.

“At least the Archangel’s aren’t here,” Sam said softly, voice hoarse from lack of use. “Must mean they don’t think we’re a threat.”

“They’re hardly the best judge of character though, are they?” Dean asked before he could stop himself.

Sam winced and lapsed back into studious silence as Dean shot Bobby a panicked looked. Bobby just shook his head and muttered “idjit” under his breath.

“I didn’t…” Dean started to say. “I meant Castiel…”

Sam nodded and waved his hand; it was all right. But Dean knew it wasn’t and he was running out of things that he could say. And he’d been trying really hard not to think about the angel. About what Chuck had told them.

That Castiel was dead. But not even dead – every atom of his Grace, his vessel, poor Jimmy Novak’s soul, had been crushed out of existence because Castiel had dared to disobey. Had dared to think for himself.

Had dared to believe in Dean.

And Dean knew that really, in the grand scheme of things, the weight of this death on his shoulders should be no more than that of any other he’d caused. But this one hurt more. Maybe it was because Castiel was, _had been,_ a goddamn angel of the Lord, every fibre of his being keyed to obey and he’d sacrificed it all. Or maybe it was the look in Chuck’s eyes as he’d told them what had happened. Dean had seen a lot in his life, but never had he seen someone so absolutely traumatised as Chuck had been. Or maybe it was that something deep inside of him that he wasn’t willing to admit to.

Chuck’s screams displaced any further thoughts as the prophet sat up, sweat beading down his face, a strange mix of euphoria and fear on his face.

“Chuck, what the hell?” Dean asked. Chuck looked up at him through bleary eyes and smiled a little maniacally. “Seriously, you’re freaking me out here.”

“He’s okay,” Chuck said. “He’s okay. Well,” he stood up and started to walk over to Sam’s laptop. “Okay is a pretty relative term and boy does this present some pretty huge fucking problems.”

“Chuck, I swear to God…”

“Dean,” Sam interrupted, looking more like himself than he had in days. “Just let him write.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue but something in the way Sam looked so genuinely interested stopped him. Sam had been in a funk since the day Lucifer had appeared in a shaft of light that had disappeared as quickly as the blink of an eye. Dean couldn’t shake the feeling that Sam was disappointed he hadn’t seen Lucifer in person and had even started to worry that Sam might head out and look for him himself. So anything that distracted him, had to be a good thing.

“Okay, Chuck,” Dean said, turning towards him. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

> Lucifer, the Morningstar, harbinger of death and destruction, was currently wearing a very attractive suit of human flesh, the soul within silenced for ever. The power emanating from this fallen angel was tangible to every living creature, no matter their previous supernatural acuity.

Dean and Sam turned to stare at each other, before turning back to the computer screen.

“This better be worth it,” Dean muttered under his breath.

> Lucifer’s brow, strong and yet gentle too, like that of a benevolent uncle, was furrowed in concentration. His hands were weaving light before him, pulling threads through the universe, creating and shaping until the piece de resistance, the Grace that was at the core of every angelic being, was slotted into place.
> 
> And Castiel, the Disobedient Angel, was re-made.

“Holy shit,” breathed Dean.

> Opening his eyes wide Castiel took a deep breath before sitting up and gazing with astonishment at his fallen brother.
> 
> “Castiel, how do you feel?”
> 
> “Lucifer…What have you done?” The angel looked down at his naked body in some surprise. “This isn’t my true form.”
> 
> “No,” Lucifer replied, the ghost of a smile dancing across his features. “But I know how comfortable you have become within it. And don’t worry,” he said, before Castiel could interrupt as he so obviously wanted to, “Jimmy Novak’s soul is in Heaven.” He spoke the word as if it caused him physical pain to do so, but smiled brightly all the same. Like a puppy wanting to be rewarded for a job well done.
> 
> “Why have you done this?”
> 
> Lucifer’s smile didn’t falter. “Who better to join with me than an angel who knows the true value of disobedience?”
> 
> Castiel looked very much like he was about to discover that very human response to pressure, and vomit. 

“Dude!” Dean said, but Chuck ignored him.

“I didn’t see what happened next,” he said instead, showing a remarkable knack for being able to type and talk at the same time. “Sometimes it comes in order, often it’s little pieces like this, but this obviously must have come after that, so…”

> Zachariah stared in disbelief as Castiel stood before them, still dressed in the clothes his vessel had favoured, though barefoot.
> 
> “I’m not sure what is more surprising. That you were stupid enough to defy me in the first place, or that you are stupid enough to stand before me now, in your _tainted_ flesh.”
> 
> Castiel bristled under the harsh words of his former supervisor, but his expression remained as stoic as before.
> 
> “I did not ask Lucifer to…”
> 
> “Be your Creator?” Zachariah interrupted, a knowing sneer on his face. “That may be so, but I’m sure he wants something in return nonetheless. His type always do.”
> 
> “As do yours,” Castiel replied, his face flushing at the defiance he was still not used to displaying.
> 
> Zachariah’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I have no time for _vermin._ And neither does he.”
> 
> Castiel felt, rather than saw, the Archangel make his entrance. He felt the build of power too, as the hairs on his body – his body that was capable of feeling everything so much more now that it was truly his – were standing on end. But even though he recognised this fluttering in his stomach as fear he did not close his eyes, or make any other move. He had already decided, when he had left Lucifer’s side, that he would accept whatever Fate had in store for him. 

“Damn it, Cas,” Dean muttered, his hands balled into fists, uselessly, at his side. They had no idea when this happened, or was going to happen even and getting angry would do no good. But Dean was feeling overprotective, a thin line of worry dancing along his spine. The kind of worry he usually reserved for Sam.

> The Archangel released all of its not inconsiderable power and…nothing happened. It had absolutely no effect. Whatever Lucifer had done to Castiel had clearly made him immune from destruction, at least by that of his own kind.
> 
> “I don’t think that’s going to work,” Castiel said. He sounded far braver than he felt. He was careful to address himself to Zachariah, rather than the Archangel, whose wings he could hear bristling behind him. “I only want to help,” the angel continued.
> 
> Zachariah snorted. “We don’t need help from the likes of you.” He walked over to Castiel. “You are Fallen in all but fact, an abomination just like your pathetic brother.” He glanced over at the Archangel and smiled at the response he received. “You are hereby banished from Heaven. And you better pray that you stay out of our way.” 

Chuck stopped typing and leaned back in his seat, rubbing at his wrists.

“Well?” Sam asked. “What happened next?”

Chuck shrugged. “No idea. Hey, there any beers left?”

Before anyone could respond there was a knock at the door.

All four of them froze. Bobby had put some pretty strong wards all around his property, and not a single one of them had been triggered. Even an ordinary human should have set at least one of them off.

Bobby went to the left, Sam to the right and Dean went to the door, all of them armed and tense. Chuck eased himself out of his chair and crawled under the table.

“On three,” Dean said. As Bobby and Sam nodded Dean quickly counted and pulled open the door, all three of them moving to point their guns at the head and heart of their visitor.

“Castiel?” Dean asked, automatically lowering his gun.

“Dean,” the angel replied, not at all surprised by the manner of his greeting. He paused a moment before taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry, but I have nowhere else to go.”

* * * * *

“You don’t need to do this.”

“Sure I do,” Bobby replied. “Needed to clear out this stuff anyways.” He finished clearing a path from the door to the bed and then used the sheets of the bed to carry the mass of papers and books he normally kept there out of the room. 

Castiel stayed where he was, stiff-backed and sullen, just staring out of the window. He had hoped that just by turning up on their doorstep Bobby and the Winchester’s would let him in, but now that they had done so he didn’t know what he was supposed to do next. 

Dean hovered in the doorway and watched the angel in silence. When he’d shown up Dean’s first thought had been to hug him and draw him close, just like he would have with Sam or Bobby. He hadn’t though. The shock of so much sudden want had rooted him to the spot, so it had been Sam who had invited Castiel inside. Sam who had sat Castiel down. Sam who had looked like his old self again.

“Would you rather I left?” Castiel asked. He turned around and looked over at Dean. “You didn’t seem very pleased to see me.”

Normally Dean would have dismissed the hurt tone he heard in Castiel’s voice. Because angels didn’t feel like humans did. But then, Castiel wasn’t like other angels anymore. Wasn’t like anything Dean had ever seen before. 

Castiel had obviously taken Dean’s silence for agreement. “Very well.”

“No, wait,” Dean said, grabbing hold of Castiel’s wrist as he passed. “I don’t want you to leave.”

They were close now, breathing in each other’s air. Castiel’s eyes drifted from where Dean’s touch was burning against his skin, up to his face. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” Castiel whispered. 

Dean swallowed hard and stepped closer to Castiel, so their bodies were flush against each other. “Me either,” he said, and then he kissed Castiel as if everything they’d done for each other had been leading up to this moment. Which he really hoped it had, ‘cause Castiel was a far better kisser than Dean would ever have given him credit for.

“Dean,” Castiel said breathlessly, “there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Later,” Dean said. He put a finger on Castiel’s mouth. “Tell me later.” Then he pulled Castiel into another kiss and started pushing him towards the bed. After a moment’s resistance Castiel allowed himself to be pushed backwards and then to fall on the bed.

“Dean, I…”

“Later,” Dean said, swallowing Castiel’s words in another kiss and pulling at both their clothes. 

Castiel bucked up as Dean’s hand brushed against his growing erection and anything he might have been about to say vanished in a haze of want and need. 

“Like that, huh?” Dean grinned, nipping at Castiel’s jaw and neck. 

“Everything feels so much _more_ now,” Castiel sighed, eyes sliding shut. 

Dean smirked. “Cool.” He kissed his way down Castiel’s bare chest. “Then you’re going to love this.” And then he swallowed Castiel’s erection, sucking and licking and gently running his teeth along his length until Castiel became completely incoherent, bucking and writhing, and coming so hard that he couldn’t hear anything but the pounding of his own, brand new, heart. 

Dean chuckled softly to himself as he moved up to lie next to Castiel. “You okay?”

“I…yes,” Castiel replied. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered how best to begin. “How do you stand it?”

“Huh?”

“When I was…before. I was so used to Jimmy’s soul being there, even if I never spoke to him. But now…now there’s only me, and my own thoughts. My own decisions.” He raised his left arm and stared at it, as if expecting it to shift and change in the light. 

Dean frowned. “It’s just the way we’re made, I guess.” He shrugged. “Making our own choices is part of what being human means.”

“I’ve come to admire that about you. Humans. Choices come so easily to you.” He paused before continuing in a rush of words. “Wanting to choose for himself is why Lucifer disobeyed our Father. He wanted us to have the same freedoms as the humans. He didn’t see why our lives were worth less.”

As Castiel had been talking Dean had raised up on one elbow and was staring at him through darkened eyes. 

“Cas…”

“It’s why he’s been healing the sick. He doesn’t see why humans should suffer when Heaven could step in.” He smiled briefly. “The concept of growth through suffering has always been a foreign one to him.”

“Did Lucifer ask you to come here?” Dean’s expression remained neutral, his voice soft, but Castiel recognised the danger it represented. 

“Yes.” 

Dean jumped up from the bed and began to scramble for his clothes. “So how long do we have? When’s he going to show up?”

“Dean…”

“You son of a bitch,” he swore as he headed for the door, shaking his head. 

“Dean, wait, please.” Castiel was up, dressed, and pushing Dean up against the wall before Dean had time to catch his breath. “He’s not coming here. I haven’t…”

“Sold yourself to the Devil?” Dean spat, struggling against Castiel’s grip.

“He’s my Creator, Dean,” Castiel said. He tried very hard to ignore Dean’s incredulous stare. “I had to promise to come here before he would let me go.”

“What else did you _have_ to promise him?”

“Just that I would tell you his plans, what he believes.” Castiel took a deep breath. “Just that I’d make sure you knew enough to judge for yourself what you wanted to do. He’s giving you the choice Heaven didn’t.”

Dean laughed sourly. “So what are you? His official spokesperson? You got a cushy retirement package all lined up?”

“It’s not like that, Dean.”

“Cas, let him go,” Sam said from the doorway. Cas turned his head and saw Sam and Bobby standing in the doorway, both pointing their guns at him.

Castiel slowly stepped back away from Dean, making sure his hands were in full view at all times. “He would only let me go if I promised to see you and make sure you knew you didn’t need to follow Heaven,” he repeated slowly. “My obligation has been fulfilled.” He stared at Dean, ignoring the others in the room. “My conscience is clear.”

“And who is that you follow, Cas?” Dean asked. He was still standing where Castiel had pushed him, willing Castiel to give the right answer, but not having any idea what that might be.

“Where my loyalty has always been,” Castiel replied. “With you.”

“Well, that’s something,” Bobby muttered, lowering his gun and slicing through the tension with ease. “I’m going to make some coffee. I figure we could all do with some.”

At a nod from Dean Sam reluctantly followed Bobby downstairs. Castiel stayed perfectly still, his gaze never drifting from Dean’s face. 

“I’m just supposed to trust you?” Dean asked. “Lucifer’s lap-dog?”

Castiel lowered his gaze. “I’m sorry. It was this or stay with Lucifer. And I couldn’t do that.”

Dean stepped forward and then motioned over to the bed. “And that? What was that?”

Castiel looked over at the bed and then back at Dean. “I’ve never been selfish before.”

Dean laughed despite himself. “You picked a hell of a time to start.”

Castiel smiled weakly in return. “I _am_ sorry. But not about that,” he waved over at the bed. “We both wanted that.” He waited until Dean nodded before carrying on. “What happens now?”

Dean shrugged, rolling his shoulders. “We go have some coffee. Then go put Lucifer back in his bottle. Sound good to you?”

“I think I’d like that,” Castiel replied. He watched as Dean started to head downstairs and then slowly started to follow. 

When the Apocalypse comes there is no fire and brimstone. There is no death and destruction. Merely doubt and hope and faith and a few brave souls trying to save the world.


End file.
